


Faith

by DarkeAngelus



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon Gay Relationship, Gay Bashing, Homophobia, M/M, Spoilers, Suave Badass, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3550928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkeAngelus/pseuds/DarkeAngelus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maggie learns from Eric some critical details about what went on outside of the barn while Aaron and Rick take the time to size each other up. Oh yeah, and Daryl can't figure out why it's taking so darn long to fix that blasted motorcycle...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faith

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place after the events of Season 5, Episode 13: "Forget".

_A doorbell,_ Maggie Greene’s mind acknowledged even as her finger was poised to press it. Right above it was a hand painted sign that proudly declared: "Come In We're OPEN".  _I never thought I’d ever see a doorbell again._ She pushed it in and had to betray a nervous smile at the ‘Bing-Bong’ sound inside the house. _Or hear it, either._

There was a distant call of “I’m coming!” from somewhere inside. Knowing the reason for the lapse, Maggie stood on the porch and patiently waited. While she did so, she looked over at the attached garage in time to see Daryl push the door up. He noticed her, passed her the equivalent of a detached nod of recognition, and then pulled a welding helmet over his face and disappeared from view. 

It was no secret that he was working on a motorcycle that was stored inside. The garage had been turned into a cramped but serviceable work area that contained all the perks any seasoned cyclist would envy. When he wasn’t out beyond the gated community hunting, he could be found here at all hours of the day and night. In the back corner of the room was a simple cot where he had chosen to settle down. No more communal living for him, but no private house either. He seemed content with this particular arrangement, or at least as content as Daryl Dixon got about anything. Out of respect, no one in the group said anything about it, but there were some damned strange looks passed about whenever any of them walked by the place. It wasn’t the task he was working on that brought on the amused glances, but where he was doing them. 

Two years into a zombie apocalypse it shouldn’t even matter. _Old habits die hard,_ Maggie mused sadly. She turned to the door when she heard the shuffle of movement behind it. There was a mutter of, _“-blasted stupid things-“_ before the door was pulled open. 

Eric was standing in the threshold, precariously balanced on one crutch while he held onto the door knob with his free hand. His flushed face immediately broke out into a broad smile. “Maggie! Hi!” 

“Afternoon. I-I… uhm, brought you this,” she said awkwardly, holding up a pie. 

“Aw, that’s sweet. Do you mind bringing it in to the kitchen? I’ll just drop it. Daryl might not mind eating dessert off the floor, but that’s where Aaron and I draw the line.” He raised his voice an octave and spouted, “If it isn’t clean, then we’re not keen.” 

“I- sure,” she said, walking inside. Eric closed the door and then adjusted both crutches under his arms and led her through the living room. 

Clean and keen. All of the houses in Alexandria were relatively the same design and style. The Cape Cod that she and Glenn had picked out was tastefully furnished, but the lack of use made the place seem almost haunted. The air was stale and some items hadn’t seen a dusting since it had been built. The unannounced arrival of so many survivors hadn’t given the small community much of a chance to prepare, although several changes of clothes, bedding and towels had been donated shortly after the pair moved in. It would take some time to make the place theirs. If they were even given the time to settle in, that was. Nothing could be taken for granted anymore. 

Aaron and Eric’s home was visibly lived in, as evidenced by the personal touches of framed photos and artworks on the walls, salvaged bric-a-brac, some African carvings peppered here and about. Some treasured and well-read magazines were arranged in a fan-shape on the coffee-table. It was clean and comfortable, but there was a noticeable sterility to it all. The settings appeared to belong to a couple who perhaps didn’t play host very often; by choice or by exclusion. The only thing that was out of place was a dirty doo rag lying on the arm rest of the sofa. Maggie saw it and betrayed a snort of amusement. 

“That man,” Eric huffed, picking it up between his first finger and thumb as if it were diseased. “Ever since I told him that stuffing the things into his right back pocket marked him as a bottom, he’s been laying them all over the place. I was just joking. He doesn’t have a sense of humor at _all._ ” 

“I’m sorry, marked him as a-a what?” 

He made a fluttering gesture with his hand and dropped the handkerchief back on the sofa. “It doesn’t matter. Those days and ways are done and gone. You can set that on the counter.” He gestured to the breakfast bar. 

“I hope you like it. It’s apple.” 

A strange smile twisted the slight ginger’s lips. “I’ll make sure that Aaron has the first slice. He simply _loves_ apples in all their shapes and forms. The result of his sainted mother, don’t you know.” 

Maggie thought that might have been thinly veiled sarcasm but was sorely out of practice to properly recognize it. It was amazing how much got stripped away from a person while traveling the road. “I made it because I wanted to thank you. Aaron in particular, but both of you made it possible.” She gestured to the house, but Eric got the meaning of what she was really trying to convey. “We- I really think that we might’ve died out there.” 

“You’re welcome to stay and wait for him. He went to talk to Deanna. Should be back anytime.” When she appeared to falter, he added, “I’ll make us coffee.”   

Coffee. Another luxury she’d almost forgotten about. How was that even possible? The shy smile she was wearing immediately broadened. “I would love a cup. Thanks.” 

“Make yourself at home.” Eric hobbled a short way down the corridor and suddenly shouted: “Daryl! I’m making coffee! Do you want one?” 

The sound of hammering stopped. “Yeah!” Daryl called back. “Keep it black. None’a that fake sugar crap this time. Makes it taste like shit!” 

“Oh, my dear sweet lord, give me strength,” Eric muttered under his breath on his way into the kitchen. Slipping into a stool at the breakfast bar, Maggie had to place a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. She lost the battle when the other man passed her a long suffering look. “How on earth did you ever manage to put up with him?” 

“At least you got him talking again,” she said with a grin. “It’s when he goes all quiet you have to watch out.” 

Eric nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, we saw some of that,” he said in a strange voice and then began measuring cups of grounds for the coffee maker. 

“How long were you following us?” Her question didn’t come across as accusatory. Certainly not in the harsh, almost indignant way that some of the others had asked. 

Eric regarded her for a span of seconds and then dropped his eyes. “Long enough to know that you suffered a deep loss. I’m sorry.” 

“Beth,” she whispered, looking down at the marble counter top. A ghostly image peered back at her; it seemed to be that of a blond girl with piercing grey eyes. She had to look away before she broke down in tears. “She was my half-sister. Only one besides my dad who made it off the farm before a herd of walkers came and killed everyone else in my family. Later on, we got separated and I thought-“ She swallowed and offered a wane grimace at Eric who was watching her closely. He nodded; an indication that he understood and she changed tracks and said instead, “Daryl looked out for her. I think- I don’t really know what happened between them, but I think he took her death harder than I did.” 

Eric nodded again but stayed quiet. He didn’t tell her how Aaron had watched the archer break off from the group to go find someplace private to mourn. Daryl had purposely burned himself with a cigarette just to try and elicit tears to shed some of the smothering grief he was feeling. He still bore that small circular burn on his left hand if you knew where to look for it. 

“God, we’ve lost so many,” Maggie whispered under her breath, looking around her surroundings. Everything was so surreal. “They should’ve been able to see this place. You don’t know what it’s like out there.” She blinked at Eric and then backed up. “Then again, I guess you do.” 

“I’ve seen some pretty horrible things. Not nearly as much as Aaron has, but I know that conditions are deteriorating rapidly for any survivors that are left.” He briefly chewed the inside of his cheek and suddenly said, “I didn’t want Aaron to approach you and your friend that morning. In fact, we argued over it.” 

Maggie blinked at him as if coming out of a spell. “...What?” 

“Don’t get me wrong. You’re good people. You, your husband... Glenn?” When she nodded, he continued. “Hell, all of the women. It’s so rare to find one that hasn’t been raped to the point they’re shell-shocked and almost catatonic. Four months ago, we tracked down a pair who were keeping a woman on a chain like some dog. Aaron tried the diplomatic route but, that deteriorated rapidly.” 

When the redhead went quiet, Maggie asked, "What happened?" 

Eric really didn't know the specifics of the struggle that had happened between his boyfriend and the two rapists. Aaron had managed to fire his flare gun, but by the time Eric made it to the campsite the two men were dead and Aaron had been stabbed in the stomach. Despite the wound, he had been trying to get the woman to stop her insane shrieking before it attracted roamers. He'd had no choice but to knock her out. As it was, it had made for one hell of a narrow escape. Back at the Alexandria infirmary, Aaron's gash hadn't been that serious, but the woman had long suffered torture at the hands of her captors and died the next day. Neither had managed to learn her name before she passed. Aaron typically rebounded from losses quite quickly, but that was the first time he had ever been forced to kill another human being, let alone two in one day. He was never quite the same after that. 

"It didn't end well," Eric chose to say. "So, I thought he was crazy to try and recruit a group as large and as armed as yours. I told him as much, but it was the baby he was fixated on. Judith. Do you have any idea how rare a treasure that sweet little thing is? How amazing it is that she'd survived such unbelievable odds? Even I had to cave under that logic, but when I saw you and your friend take Aaron into the barn..." He betrayed a shiver. "I listened with the cardioid mic. I heard your leader, Rick, punch him out. I almost came charging in after him but I heard you trying to be the voice of reason. It just about killed me to do it, but I chose to stay back and listen." He was staring at her through burning eyes. 

Maggie thought of her time in Woodbury when she had been held in one room and forced to hear Glenn being roughed up in the adjoining one. She remembered the terror, the helplessness. Most of all she remembered the rage she felt at the thought of someone she loved so much being hurt. "I'm sorry," she said. She reached out for Eric's hand and squeezed it. "I'm so sorry." 

Eric focused his gaze on the union of their hands. "The last thing I heard through the mic was Rick telling Aaron that if the scouting party didn't return in an hour that he would stab him in the head. He wasn't joking. I realized that I only had two choices; track your party and make sure you didn't encounter any obstacles in order to get back in time or charge the barn and try to free him." 

"You followed us." 

He swallowed and nodded slowly. "Yeah, I followed you. Your group made it back to the barn with just about five minutes to spare." He patted his chest for dramatic effect. "I almost had a heart attack." 

"You're the reason why Aaron wouldn't tell us the name of the place or precisely where it was." 

"That's right. Usually, when a recruit is finally won over, that's when I do my Big Reveal and we all head back home together like it's a scene from the Wizard of Oz. Aaron wasn't going to chance it this time. Rick made things worse when he decided to take that damned North 23 road. I had to hightail it out of there to find a car to follow you. I found that hideous beater but got overrun by roamers. I tried to hide under it and one of the stinking things rolled a tire over my ankle. That's when I shot the flare. I was actually happy to see your RV coming to the rescue. I knew Rick wasn't in it." 

"You don't like him very much." It was not a question. 

Eric pulled his hand back and crossed his arms. For the very first time, anger showed on his fine-boned features, bringing sharp color to his freckled cheeks. "Should I? I saw the bruise he caused on my man's face. The lacerations around both of his wrists. No, I don't like him." 

The words "He's suffered a lot" came to her lips but she didn't say them out loud. It was condescending. All of them, without exception, had suffered to one extent or another. It depended on a person's coping skills and Rick had shown on several occasions that he didn't cope well when stressed or when his back was up against a wall. The man those confrontations revealed was- 

She didn't like to think about it, but "barely human" sometimes came to mind. It reminded her of the bloodbath in Father Gabriel's church. She looked up at Eric. "He's someone you don't want to cross. Aaron almost found that out the hard way back at the store where we had you settled." 

An odd look settled on the redhead's face. "You mean when he told Rick he would have to shoot him if he wouldn't let him be with me." 

Maggie nodded. "That was stupid. It could've easily ended the wrong way if Glenn hadn't stepped in." 

"Yes, it could have," Eric said, moving over to the counter and pulling some mugs out from the cabinet. "But maybe not how you might think."

 

* * *

 

"-should be about four more days," Aaron was saying in the sumptuous living area where Deanna liked to conduct her more informal meetings. "He would've had the bike up and running by now if I didn't keep slipping in and sabotaging it when he was away. It's starting to get ridiculous." 

"He's a big boy," the older woman said from where she was lounging on the sofa. "If he's eager to get out on the road, why stop him?" 

"He needs as much time to decompress as the rest of his group. Perhaps even more so," he said, staring out of the window at the steel wall less than thirty feet away. Sometimes he wondered if the monstrosity kept them safe or simply made them complacent. "What he's going through isn't the same as the others. I get the feeling this is a lifetime of hurt he's channeling right now." 

Deanna sighed. "Your over-protectiveness of Eric jeopardized several of your past excursions. I thought it would be different with a new partner but you're already sounding just about the same way." 

"I'm asking a man to risk his life," Aaron reminded her. "Just because he's eager to go out beyond the walls because he doesn't have any sense of self-worth doesn't mean I have to encourage it. He stays put until I say otherwise. No arguments." 

She held up her hands in mock surrender. "Fine. He's your pet project so you know what's best." 

"And what about you?" Steel blue eyes scanned her face for hidden clues. "Some of the jobs you've handed out to certain people are questionable at best." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Noah, for one. The kid can barely walk and you have him placed on a scavenging team? He needs to go to the infirmary and get his leg reset." 

"He needs to prove his worth to the community first," she said. "Aiden will keep a close  eye on him. You worry too much." 

Mentioning her overly-zealous privileged brat of a son didn't exactly inspire confidence in the stoic recruiter. "I wasn't too keen on hearing that you appointed Rick Grimes as a constable, either." 

"You're the one who vouched for him. Remember?" 

"I know that I told you to trust him," Aaron said with a nod. He moved to a table where a piece of paper with hand-written notes lied. His hand writing. "And because of that endorsement I knew I had to keep a close eye on him. Or ear, in this case." He tapped the paper. "This worries me. It should worry you." 

The former congresswoman briefly eyed the transcript. _"-We'll make it work. But if they can't make it then we'll just take this place."_ She betrayed a crafty smile. "I know what I'm doing, Aaron." 

They were starting to go around in circles. He knew from experience that was the signal that their meeting was nearing an end. He moved towards the closed door. "You weren't face to face with him quite like I was. I've been trusting my instincts ever since I came out and I telling you: That man is dangerous." 

"I'll take that under advisement," she said with a condescending smile. 

Aaron took the hint and left. He put on his "neutral" face as soon as he was out of the house. It was a calm, detached expression with his lips curled up into a near-smile and his eyes fixated on nothing in particular. As usual, he was wearing one of his trademark plaid button-up's that Eric loathed and a simple pair of tan trousers. He dressed like a man ten years older than his admitted thirty years of age. It was meant to be a non-threatening look that worked well for him in the field. Not quite so comfortable as the ratty T-shirts, cargo shorts and sandals he'd worn in Nigeria, but that had been one ocean, two continents, and three years ago; back in the days when he'd been an aid worker in the Niger River Delta and venturing into places that would have normally gotten a white man's head chopped off. Thankfully, his glib approach to negotiations had gotten him and his expat's out of some hairy situations. He'd learned to hone the skill further after the world went to hell. Roamers were animated dead flesh, but people were, more or less, still people; predictable, desperate- 

"Hey there, pretty boy." 

- _and, more often than not, stupid_ , Aaron finished in his mind as he looked around. He wasn't surprised to see the man coming up along side of him. The older, heavy-set bruiser worked with Tobin's construction crew. The man's biceps were bigger around than one of Aaron's thighs.  "Hi, Blake. How are you?" 

"Ah, just fine. Not as fine as _you_ probably are, but I'm coping." 

"I'm not quite sure what you mean by that." 

"You found another one, right?" There was a mischievous glint to the larger man's eyes that Aaron recognized with dread. "I've seen him staked out at your place working on that bike you've had squirreled away. Must be nice to have some fresh meat to look at." 

Aaron tried to pass it off with one of his good-natured chuckles. "Cut him some slack, man. He's just a guy out on his luck so he's staying at our place until he gets his ride fixed. Eric is sidelined because of his ankle so Daryl's replacing him as Alexandria's recruiter." 

"Oh, so it's just gonna be the _two of you_ out there. _Together_." Blake's smarmy smile broadened in his meaty face. "Sounds cozy." 

Unruffled, Aaron gave the man a brief glance, his eyes deliberately dropping down to the fly of his jeans before looking back up into his face. "I'd ask you to volunteer, but I really need a man with balls for the job. You look like you're falling short in that department. No offense." 

The false humor in that face immediately disappeared. It became what Aaron was expecting; ignorant, angry, and most definitely disgusted. "It isn't right, you setting up a hostel for queers right in the middle of our community. Just putting up with the sight of you and that fugly ginger twink is bad en-" 

 _Pop!_ Blake's head was knocked back with a fist to the face. When he looked back, blinking in disbelief through watering eyes, Aaron's hands were still in his pockets and he still wore that disarming expression on his calm face. "What was that, Blake? I didn't quite catch it." 

"Goddamn faggot-" was all he got out before another punch split his upper lip. He staggered back a few steps, touching his mouth and stared at the blood smeared across the tips of his fingers. He looked up in disbelief and met only Aaron's bored stare. He leapt forward with a clumsy round house and the younger man caught that wrist as he thundered past and levered it up behind his back. He added a kick to the back of Blake's knees, which sent him down on the asphalt, and landed another punch directly into the right kidney, eliciting a howl of pain. "Listen to me, you homophobic sack of shit," Aaron hissed into his left ear. "Eric is twice the man you'll ever manage to be even on your best day. I love him and the best thing for you to do is accept that and go on your merry little way. Understand?" When he got no answer, he landed another punch in the man's vulnerable lower back. "I didn't hear you." 

"Okay. _Okay!_ " Blake shouted and Aaron immediately let him go. 

The construction worker lurched back to his feet, rubbing the small of his back and trying not to make it to too noticeable. Blood was running down his chin and leaving beads of crimson on his shirt. The expression on his face was a mixture of indignation and unease. 

Whether as a dare or simply mocking him, Aaron put his hands casually in his pants pockets again. "You should go to the infirmary and get that checked out. Tell Pete you ran into a door. I'm sure he's familiar with that tired old excuse." 

Blake looked like he was considering another strategy of attack before his eyes briefly moved to something beyond the recruiter's left shoulder and back again. With a rumbled curse, he turned around and retreated in the direction of town. 

Aaron let him go but had to do a mental count to try and calm himself. Normally, such rude comments barely managed to faze him. This attack had been unprecedented. It appeared that Daryl wasn't the only person who needed to decompress from what had gone on beyond the walls the week earlier. 

"Is there a problem?" Drawled a familiar voice. 

Turning on his heel, Aaron saw the reason why Blake had chosen to leave rather than defend his wounded pride. Rick was apparently doing the rounds, looking quite proper in his dark brown uniform and black tie. With the hair cut and the absence of the beard, he could almost pass for normal- and probably did to the majority in Alexandria. Those piercing blue eyes hadn't changed, however. Aaron had spent a lot of time staring at them. They hadn't lost their edge and looked as sincere and deadly as the first moment they'd met. 

"No problem, constable." 

"Looked like it from where I was standing," Rick persisted. 

Aaron simply extended his arms towards the older man. "Feel free to handcuff me and take me away. You probably know by now that Alexandria doesn't have a jail, but I'm sure there's a beam somewhere you could tie me to." 

The double meaning was not lost on the former-Kentucky deputy. He could see the healing marks still etched into both of Aaron's wrists. His mouth twitched and he shook his head. "No need of that over what looked like a simple squabble. If you've got some time to spare, I'd appreciate a tour. It'd be nice to know who I'm supposed to be... _constabling_." He spared the taller man a one-sided smile at the lame attempt at humor. He was sorely out of practice. 

"It would be my pleasure," Aaron said, and appeared sincere in voice and manner although Rick wasn't entirely sure what was real and what was an act with this man anymore. Less than five minutes ago, he'd seen Aaron effortlessly take down a man who outweighed him by a good forty pounds. 

It wasn't a long walk and Aaron did the majority of the talking. Before Rick's group arrived, there had only been fifty-six survivors in a compound built to hold (in a worst case scenario) five hundred. It explained why so many houses were still vacant and only about a quarter of the emergency food supplies had been used despite the amount of time passed. When the demographics were all broken down, Rick was dismayed to realize that things in Alexandria were little different than they had been back at the prison. Before the sickness. 

Before the Governor. 

A time when he had shelved the gun and worked the soil. The best six months he had enjoyed since he'd gotten shot and ended up in a coma only to wake up in a hospital where the words "Don't Open Dead Inside" still haunted his deepest dreams to this very day. He was poised to start a coup inside this humble community? Against who? All he'd seen so far were some civilians who still looked uneasy holding a machine gun and some over-eager rookies who didn't appear to be taking the outside threat seriously. In fact, there appeared to be only one person who seemed able to pose a threat if he wasn't handled fairly and Rick realized he needed to do something that was long overdue. He stuck out his hand. 

Aaron stopped in mid-sentence about the notorious Mrs. Niedermeyer and took that hand without hesitation. His grip was strong when they shook and Rick could feel rough calluses that could be caused by nothing else than wielding weapons in self-defense. In this terrible world, they were marks of honor which both men shared. 

"I never thanked you," he said, feeling suddenly awkward when he took his hand back. 

Aaron politely pointed out, "You still haven't." 

"Thanks." He was genuinely surprised to realize he meant it. Carl seemed to be settling in after some initial hiccups. It helped that there were some teenagers near his age to hang around with. It probably helped more that one of them was female. His daughter had been bordering on malnutrition and dehydration when she'd undergone her first real doctor's examination. Now she was sleeping blissfully away in a donated crib with a bevy of volunteers eager to take up rotation in order to babysit her. Jessie was with her now. Just thinking about the beautiful blond brought on a pang of lust that had the potential to cloud his judgment if he wasn't careful. He had to keep reminding himself that she was married. Somewhere in hell, Shane was probably laughing his rotting nuts off at the irony. "Y'know, for..." He didn't know where to even start. 

"You're welcome," Aaron said with a knowing smile. "I meant what I said at the barn. Having you here will make us stronger in the long run." He paused and then fixed Rick with a hard look. "But only if we all work _together_." 

Rick held his eyes up to that probing stare. It was just like that moment at the store when he had refused Aaron to be with his partner for the night. The cordial, polished veneer had dropped and he saw a hint of what the recruiter hid from view; a definite temper, a fearlessness towards inevitable combat. What had impressed Rick the most was his unwavering loyalty towards his boyfriend. He had heard the gay pair cracking jokes about the license plates and the car. Gareth had been all about snappy word-play and sarcastic one-liners but, despite their similarities, Aaron proved himself to be genuinely trustworthy. Hell, he had even managed to win over the irascible Daryl Dixon in one single day. The hunter usually had remarkable insight into people despite his short association with The Claimers (and that partnership could be chalked up to an understandable lapse in favor of self-preservation). Everyone in his group had warmed up to Aaron and thanked him in one form or other. All of them except for... 

Vexed, Rick was the one who dropped his eyes first. He might have even offered the barest hint of a nod. Out of the corner of his eye, he regarded the younger man for a moment and suddenly said, "You let me deck you. Back at the barn. You could've stopped me. Why didn't you?" 

"Because you wouldn't be here if I had," was all he got back in reply. 

It was another one of those enigmatic statements that could be interpreted a number of different ways. Rick honestly didn't know how to respond. When the recruiter suddenly stepped forward, he felt himself tense up and betrayed a flinch when Aaron lightly slapped his shoulder and started walking away. "Why don't you come with me to my house? I have some spare towels and clothes you could probably use." He didn't look back for a reply but, as if of their own accord, Rick's feet started moving and soon followed after him. His mind was in a different place altogether. 

Once back home, the last thing Aaron expected to hear was laughter when he reached for the doorknob. It actually made him hesitate for a moment before he opened the door and walked inside. 

"Finally!" Eric shouted, startling him. The redhead was seated in the living room recliner across from where Maggie was sitting on the sofa. Daryl was leaning against a nearby wall and looked over at him though a curtain of greasy bangs. For some reason he was smirking. "You took so long I ran out of random fluff to talk about and had no choice but to move on to more... entertaining fare." 

Before Aaron could even open his mouth to question what he meant by that, Daryl rumbled out, "Shit yer pants while gettin coffee in a Starbucks, huh? Nice." 

Maggie slapped a hand over her mouth while her shoulders shook with laughter.

"I caught Giardiasis from a bar in Mali. It didn't kick in until I was Stateside." Aaron said in exasperation, his cheeks reddening slightly. He spared his partner a measured stare and got only that infuriatingly teasing little grin in return. He would deal with him later in private. Probably in their bedroom, where the majority of their squabbles were settled. 

And usually without clothes. 

Maggie got to her feet, looked at him for a second and then rushed forward and gave him a hug before her nerves got the better of her. It was so unexpected that his arms froze at his sides for a few seconds before he welcomed the embrace. 

"Thank you," she said, kissing his cheek and stepping back. Her face was positively glowing. "I came over to thank you for saving us." She looked over to where Rick was standing awkwardly in the doorway. "You saved all of us." In the background, Daryl raised his mug of coffee in a half-assed salute and then drank from it with a loud slurp that elicited a disapproving scowl from Eric. 

"You're welcome," Aaron said. He really wanted to extend a thanks to her in return, and probably would have if he hadn't felt Rick's eyes on his back. He was no idiot. Maggie and Michonne had saved his life. He believed that as fervently as he believed in the continued success of Alexandria. If they hadn't spoken up on his behalf, Rick would have killed him without hesitation. 

"We managed to salvage a small slice," Eric said. He cocked a thumb over at the lounging redneck. " _He_ was determined to finish it off." 

"Hey! It's good. Whaddya want from me?" Daryl looked over at Aaron again. "I tried to do some weldin but the oxygen tank's near empty. We need to find another one. I swear, that bike's friggin jinxed." 

"Sure," Aaron agreed, straight-faced. "Do you want to go make a run right now?" 

Daryl glanced out the picture window, his keen eyes tracking the length of the shadows on the ground the way an ordinary man looked at a wristwatch. "Naw. It's gettin late. Tomorrow." 

"That sounds fine." Maggie was back at his side holding up a pie plate. He recognized what it was and felt his stomach drop. "I brought this over as a gift. Eric tells me that apple is your favorite." 

"Oh, did he now?" This time, Eric laced his fingers behind his head and was positively beaming in amusement at his discomfiture. Aaron resolved that when everyone else was finally out of the house, he was going to settle the score right there in that damned recliner. To hell with the bedroom. 

Maggie offered him a fork and he accepted the plate from her. He cleared his throat and then looked over at Rick. An idea crossed his mind. "It would be extremely rude of me not to let our new constable enjoy this treat-" 

"No reason we both can't enjoy it," Rick said, ambling over. He plucked the fork from Aaron's hand and carved out a chunk and ate it without hesitation. "It's delicious," he said between chews, handing the fork back to the dumbfounded recruiter. 

Son of a bitch. Damned if there wasn't a hint of a smirk on his clean-shaven face, too. 

Delicately, as if performing surgery, Aaron managed to get just enough of the pie to cover the tines of the fork and put it in his mouth. At that precise moment Eric shouted, "Hallelujah!" for no clear reason other than Aaron, and perhaps Rick, could figure out. Daryl almost dropped his mug in shock and then rumbled something under his breath that sounded like, _"...crazy lil fucker..."_  

"It's wonderful. Thank you, Maggie," Aaron said when he'd managed to swallow. His voice was back to it's usual bass purr and she flushed with happiness. 

"Want another bite?" Rick asked. This time he was actually smiling. Aaron took measure of him again and saw a subtle change in that face; a glimpse of the man who he had been _before_ everything fell to pieces. It went a long way to appeasing some of his apprehension. Not all of it; he would be a fool to let his guard down entirely, but he thought that maybe he hadn't been too late to save Rick Grimes after all. Only time would tell. 

"Knock yourself out," Aaron told him, handing over the plate. There was no mistaking the true meaning in that statement and Rick's shoulders shook as he chuckled. "I'll go get those clothes and towels." 

As he left the room, Eric went back to talking but, mercifully, shifted his focus over to other members of the community. While Aaron was sorting through the linen closet he hesitated when he heard the sound of laughter again. He stopped what he was doing, closed his eyes and listened. It was a chorus as cherished as any opera venue. It meant life and happiness. Contentment and humanity. 

Most of all, it meant hope. It meant that the human race wasn't lost. 

Aaron wasn't surprised to feel the sting of tears on his cheek. He wiped them away with a sad smile, thinking of the nameless woman he had tried to save. He had seriously considered quitting recruiting after that. The sound he heard in the living room made him glad that he hadn't given up. 

Faith, it seemed, was the only thing that the living had left. 

* * *

 


End file.
